a series of sbi oneshots

cigarettes

Wilbur smoked in Pogtopia. Clouds of nicotine and ash falling through the cave like the aftermath of a volcano. At first Tommy had hated the smell, had hated that Wilbur was doing that to himself. 

He’d heard all of the warnings from Phil as a kid. Smoking is bad for you, it makes you sick, gives you cancer. 

But it also made Wilbur calm. There was less of the strung out, too thin too anxious, too shaky Wilbur when he was smoking. When he smoked he was calmer. 

Wilbur is gone. Well, he’s back, but he was out in the arctic with Phil and Techno for awhile. And Tommy was alone. The only part of him that  Tommy had was the box of cigarettes that once sat in the bottom of Tommy’s ender chest. He’d always made sure to have spares on hand for Wilbur, because the anxiety, the shakiness, the depression (the suicidal tendencies) had always been worse when Wilbur didn’t have any smokes. 

(This box was in the bottom of the chest the day of the festival. He’d hidden them from Wilbur when he’d asked for one. He’d wanted Wilbur to go into the fight clear headed and sure. He has wondered a thousand times over if Wilbur wouldn’t have welcomed Phil’s blade into his heart if Tommy had just given him one.) 

Tommy hadn’t really meant to start smoking them. But after Exile, after Doomsday, after that confrontation with Dream on that fucking mountain. 

After the prison.

(After he died.) 

Well. They’d made Wilbur feel better. So he’d tried them too. He’s not sure they really work, but they make things easier. So every once in awhile, (its growing more frequent) he takes the box out to a field in the middle of nowhere and lights up a little bit of peace. 

He takes a drag of the cigarette. The box is starting to run low. He’s going to have to get more. He’s been putting it off because he knows its a bad habit, but he doesn’t want to use up the last of Wilbur’s box. 

He’s made up with his family now, but he still comes out here. He still lights up the cigarettes when the stress, the anxiety, the niggling worry that maybe they’re all just faking eats at him too much. 

He doesn’t expect anyone to be here, why would they be? Its a random field in the middle of nowhere. And yet, a shadow falls over him. A hand reaches over his shoulder and pinches the end of the cigarette between its fingers, snuffing it. 

Tommy freezes and slowly, carefully looks up. 

Techno’s eyes gleam down at him. 

Techno crouches down next to him  as slow as a glacier, as slow as a predator stalking its prey. Every part of Tommy is saying run but he can't move.

Finally Techno is at eye level with him and he finally pulls the cigarette out from between Tommy's fingers where it was nearly about to fall anyway. And he's being so quiet for so long and Tommy finally dares to whisper: "Techno?"

"Theseus."

Well, he doesn't sound angry. He's not yelling, not snarling, his face is still just blank. Maybe he's not that upset. Wilbur smoked in Pogtopia so maybe its fine. 

So Tommy tries smiling at him, "what's uh. What's....up?"

"Whats up?" Techno asks. "That's what you have to say?"

Tommy looks around trying to see if maybe there's something else he should talk about.

Is that a crow?

He starts to turn but Techno snaps out a hand, fast as lightning, so fast Tommy doesn't even have time to flinch and grabs him by the chin. "What's up, Theseus, is that you are--once again--doing something you shouldn't be. You have-- once again --snuck off to get into trouble."